


Strong Shoulders Bear More Weight

by brandrewfarr



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, a multi act story, more tags will be added as time goes on, slow burn bc my chapters are really short tbh, this is gay, this is kind of angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11002668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandrewfarr/pseuds/brandrewfarr
Summary: Durotan is captured with Garona in what was supposed to be an ambush against the humans. That went well...(Small edit to this. I have never played WoW, I’ve only seen that Warcraft movie and that’s it. I don’t know what these characters act like, I’m just going off what was from Warcraft and my own assumptions as to how they work and act. Anyway, have fun reading!)





	1. Chapter 1

Lothar watched as a man collided with a tree, his body twisting into unknown angles before his eyes had to be drawn ahead of him once more. He focused on the track and the beast ahead of him, the large, powerful beasts that could break most of the bones in his body with a single blow - no, now is not the time for panic. He watched as a beast sped into the foliage with a stolen horse, and he called his own to follow it. 

He ducked his head from a branch, and the beast and he stood before each other. The beast looked confused and slightly frightened, but it took a stance and raised its weapon. Lothar reminded himself he need only take a prisoner and not a head; he urged his horse to follow his lead. 

The beast rushed him foolishly, and he jumped off his horse just in time for both he and his steed to garner a devestating blow. His instinct told him to move closer, so he got to the hulking beast's torso and slipped around him, slamming the pommel of his sword into the beast's tailbone. It yelled in pain and whirled, and with a swift kick in between the beast's legs and a careful maneuvering of his sword, he had the beast's throat twitching underneath his blade. 

He gave it a long, hard stare, and then he quickly moved to crack the pommel against the beast's skull, and it crumpled to the ground with a thud. 

He sighed and rolled his shoulders before hearing Khadgar yell for them to come from across the trees. He tapped his finger against his chin, thinking of a way he was going to get this thing on his horse. 

 

Anduin had managed to find a horse to get the beast on, but it was heavy. His arms still burned from the effort of getting the thing up to at least a kneeling position so he could throw it's even heavier torso across the horse. Not to mention its legs. 

He chuckled a little to himself when he saw Khadgar holding a female beast to a tree all on his lonesome, bright blue magic pinning her and making her writhe.

"You caught her yourself?" he asked incredulously. 

"Yes," the mage answered with some breathlessness. Lothar shrugged and got to work pinning the thing on the horse to the prisoner's cage. The beast's runt went with him, being pinned to the opposite side of the same cage. She gave him a long, steely glare, and she struggled in her shackles. He only smiled at her. 

He noticed the larger of the two, a male, waking up with a groan. A little bit of blood trailed down the side of his face. 

 

Lothar rode up to the cage, eyeing the larger of the beasts with trepidation. 

"What are you?" he asked. "What are you doing in our lands?" 

"He not understand," the female beast said with a little sniff. He gave her a look, and just as he was about to ask how she understood, the mage popped up and interrogated her. 

"You understand our language?" he asked in awe. Lothar grumbled - Khadgar was always so giddy. 

"Yes," she answered. "I learn humans." 

"From the humans?" asked Khadgar excitedly. 

"Yes." She opened her mouth to say more when the deep rumble of the beast across from her spoke up. They conversed a little bit and she glared at him. "He ask you what am."

Lothar grumbled something about how horrible her Common was before saying: "I am a human. One of the races in Azeroth. What are you beasts? 

Garona growled at the insult with bared teeth before replying: "we Orc. Durotan." She pointed to the beast from across her. 

"I'm Khadgar," the little mage chirped up, and the two Orcs, Lothar, and a nearby soldier fixed him with their gazes. He sheepishly got back down in his seat at the front of the carriage. 

"I am Anduin Lothar. Commander of one of Azeroth's best legions."

"Chieftain?" Garona asked. The large beast across from her seemed to perk up at that. 

Lothar grumbled a little bit. "No, I am a commander. I control legions."

"Chieftain," Garona declared, shifting in her shackles. 

Khadgar stuck his head out of the back of the window again and hummed. He examined Garona, then Durotan, but his gaze faltered when the large male locked eyes with him. 

"Why has he not tried to escape yet?" he asked quietly. 

"Durotan have honor. Durotan chieftain," she answered. "Know defeat."

Lothar perked an eyebrow, his gaze locking with the larger Orc's inside the cage for a few moments. 

"Hello," he said quietly when he recognized that the beast looked at him without anger or hatred. 

Durotan grumbled something. 

"He say 'sorry'," Garona translated, and the rest of the ride after that was quiet. 

\------------------------------------------

Truthfully, he missed his wife and his son. He almost always missed them nowadays, and it was something that he'd do well to control, especially on the battlefield. 

Sitting in this cage with the small-teeth surrounding them and watching - it made Durotan's skin itch, and it made him miss his family more. He kept his eyes on Garona, who looked at him in turn. 

"They look at us as if we were…" he trailed off, gaze scanning pairs of eyes. Their small faces turning away as soon as his eyes locked with theirs. "Lesser," he finally said. 

Garona stared at him for a long while. "You're becoming soft. They are the lesser ones."

Durotan locked eyes with a woman holding her child. She recoiled in disgust and contempt, but the boy looked on in fascination. 

He did not know clean, stone roads or boisterous markets. In fact, this was the most small-teeth he had ever seen in one place, and there was a part of him that made him dread for these small-teeth when the Orcs came. 

 

The man who had stood by his cell had been treating him pretty badly. Whenever he made a move to scratch or wake up his bones or even merely drum his fingers, the guard would lock eyes with him and sneer. It was getting on his nerves, so Durotan, realizing his rebellious nature, had turned around and faced the wall. 

This went on for days. He never turned from that wall. Even when food was placed through the hole, his hand would reach blindly behind him and pull the plate or bowl into his lap. He would sleep facing the wall, and by the time morning arose, he already knew where the bowl of food was. Finally, a gentle rap on the door sounded, and Garona spoke: "the mage wants to speak with you."

"What would he want with me?" he retorted. That mage was ludicrous, and if he could control the Fel, then truly he was as powerful as Gul'Dan.

"He wishes to speak with you," was her reply, insistent. 

Durotan turned around, finding Garona dressed in the garb of the small-teeth, and he couldn't help but let out a small sound of discontent. 

He turned to face the mage then, the small-teeth almost jumping in response when he asked: "what is it that you want?" 

Garona translated for Durotan, and the mage said something back in return. 

"The… mage is asking your expertise on something," she said, listening a bit more. "Inf… in-for-mat-ion." 

Durotan let out a low chuckle and said, "you dip your tongue in the muddy water of their language. What does the small-teeth need?" 

The man said something low and quiet, as if he didn't want anyone else but Garona and Durotan to hear. 

"He asks about the Fel," Garona said, directing a steely gaze towards the chieftain. 

Durotan rolled his shoulders, and he shuffled closer to the bars of the cell. Durotan grabbed the bars of the cell, eyes growing hard and unnerving. 

"The Fel is corruption," he started, and Garona began speaking to the small-teeth. "It tarnishes all that it touches, and even when it doesn't touch, the Fel's taint lingers like the blood of a fresh kill. Gul'Dan is the embodiment of the Fel, and for that he must be stopped. He corrupts… all." 

As he said the last word, Durotan's eyes locked on the the mage's. For a moment, his eyes searched the human's face for something, and as the words were translated back to him, the human seemed almost reverent. Khadgar nodded once in response. 

"Thank you," the mage said, and Durotan heard the words before, so he understood them. 

"You're welcome," he replied, stumbling over the words in dirty human tongue. It's the only words he knew in the language besides 'human', 'thank you', and 'chieftain.' 

Durotan watched them leave with a small sense of satisfaction burrowing in his chest. He locked eyes with his guard and this time, Durotan did not turn and face the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Okay, so I have no idea how this story is going to be played out, but I do have this one chapter made so far! I'll try to keep this updated somewhat regularly but really no promises. Also, this fic is Durotan/Khadgar, and there will be changes to canon. Also gay.)


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Khadgar saw Durotan was after his trip to Karazhan. He had heard of the Guardian's palace but never before had he seen it. Luckily, he still had the time he managed to get away with, and how strange that was what with the figure all. He still shudders from that. 

Khadgar shrugged off the guard that insisted on accompanying him, putting up both hands and saying, "no really, I'll be fine!" 

He sat down in front of the orc chieftain with a sense of trepidation. He worried for two reasons: one of which was that Durotan was absolutely massive, and the other reason was that they didn't speak the same language. Khadgar was sure he could get the point across well enough; he's always had. Regardless, he wished he had Garona here, where she could translate for them; however, she was off scouting the orc encampment with Anduin.

"Hello," he said, waving a hand. Khadgar followed the orc making the same motion, albeit slowly and unsurely. 

"That's a wave," he clarified and waved his hand again. "Wave."

Durotan reached a hand out, but it couldn't fit through the bars. What he did do was tap the cell with the back of his knuckles. Khadgar was confused. 

"What?" he asked, confused. A game of charades ensued where Khadgar had immense trouble understand Durotan's insistence. 

The orc grumbled and then pointed to the lock, and he made a gesture with a hand that got across to Khadgar. 

The human was skeptical, sure, how long had Durotan been in these cells? a week? Regardless, he shuffled backward and then cleared his throat. 

Standing up, he called for the guard. 

"Yes, mage?" he answered with an annoyed expression. 

"I need you to open this man's cell," he said, sounding like a child almost. 

"That beast in there will tear you to shreds," the guard said. "That's all they're good for." 

Khadgar's brow twitched, and he let out a sigh. "Guess I'll do it myself then," he grumbled, moving close to the lock on the door. 

"Hey!" the guard called, moving swiftly and pointing his sword at the mage. "I'm not warning you again!" 

Khadgar raised his hands, ready to start a fight, and he began to shout a spell when the deep growl of the orcish chieftain.

"Gul'Dan," he was saying, and Khadgar lowered his hands. "Gul'dan." 

Khadgar looked at the soldier and merely gestured to the lock. "It is now imperative that you let this man out. He has information about Gul'Dan."

"Who?" the guard asked. 

"Gul'Dan… chieftain," Durotan said, hitting himself with a closed fist. "Gul'Dan orc-Chieftain."

Khadgar furrowed his brows before snapping his fingers and saying, "Gul'Dan is the leader of the orcs. This is valuable information."

The guard gave him a look that was full of ice and malice, and then he pulled out some keys and opened the lock. Brandishing his sword and pointing it at Durotan, the guard backed up liberally. 

"Thank you," Durotan growled, his accent thick. The orc didn't move, but he did shuffle forward in his cell. 

Khadgar became nervous when Durotan reached out with his hand, the guard visibly tensing beside him. He relaxed when all the orc did was touch him with the back of his fingers, his torso moving back a little bit. 

"Hello," Durotan said, and he repeated the motion. 

The guard backed up and put his sword back in his sheath. Khadgar held up a hand as a sign of peace. "He's only saying hello," he explained. 

"Gul'Dan," Durotan said, trying again for a game of charades. "Gul'Dan… information."

Khadgar was surprised at how quickly the orc was learning common; it was scarily fast. He nodded and then tapped a finger against his chin, thinking of what to ask Durotan. He reached over and grabbed his bag, suddenly, opening the tome he had acquired from Karazhan. Turning to a page that had him especially confused, Khadgar set the book down and showed Durotan. 

"Portal," he said, pointing at the picture in the book. "Orc-Portal." 

The guard went back to his post by the door, leaning there and whistling a tune. 

Durotan nodded and became thought, and Khadgar felt a sliver of dread coil in him. The orc drew a little sun on the ground and then made fifteen marks next to it. 

"Fifteen days," Durotan said, and then put both of his hands together. After that, he opened and closed them, repeating: "fifteen days."

"Fifteen… suns? Fifteen days. Fifteen days until the portal opens!" 

Durotan nodded, a little confused. He clarified by pointing down at the picture. "Orc… Horde," he said, putting his hands together and then spreading them outwards. 

"Orcs… big?" Khadgar asked. His eyes grew wide as he said, "more orcs!"

Durotan grumbled something and moved back at Khadgar practically screaming in his face. Of course, the mage was too busy scrambling up and confronting the guard. 

"Where is King Wrynn?" Khadgar asked, bewildered above his usual state of unrest. 

"How should I know? The only thing I know is to keep that beast locked up in its cage where it belongs." 

Khadgar looked back at Durotan, the man checking his braids while sitting neatly in his cell despite the door being wide open. The mage admired the orc's compliance for a moment before calling out for Durotan. 

He looked up and Khadgar nodded his head. "Chieftain," he said, pointing out of the door. The orc got up, and the guard brandished his sword. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing, spellchucker?" he confronted Khadgar. "I will not disobey my orders so quickly."

"Will you disobey your orders if I told you that in fifteen days, more of these 'beasts' will invade this world. They will kill every race in this world, and that includes invading Stormwind," Khadgar said giving the guard a stern look. "This man has valuable information that pertains to this exact situation from occurring. Your choice, soldier: letting this orc accompany me, or letting your entire world fall into ruins." 

The guard didn't say anything, but his eyes moved to Durotan standing close to the mage. He sheathed his sword and said, "fine, but I'm coming with you." 

Khadgar strode ahead, Durotan following him, and the guard backing up the rear. 

\---------------------------------

Durotan was whisked away by the mage in front of him. They stopped at every guard they came across, the smallteeth questioning the men that were usually taller than him with vigor and determination. The chieftain was surprised that the mage could muster up the courage to confront every stony-faced guard; in his opinion, mages were cowards, and Gul'Dan was especially cowardice. 

Khadgar seemed courageous though, and he most definitely seemed confident in his abilities. Durotan admired that about the human.

“King Wrynn is in an important meeting right now, mage,” the fifth guard they approached said. “What is the beast doing outside of his cage?” 

Khadgar gestured behind himself to Durotan, and the orc raised a brow in response. The mage replied hastily, “This orc has important information about the rest of the orcs. An invasion will be taking place in fifteen days.”

The guard seemed unconvinced, crossing his arms. Even though Durotan didn’t understand a good portion of the conversation, he was still following well enough. The mage wanted to seek an audience with the Chieftain of the humans, Wrynn. In this circumstance, following orcish custom, Durotan should give a gift to a fellow chieftain; however, he couldn’t find something he could give. 

Seeing a larger rock on the ground, the orc reached out and picked it up. He held it in his hands and then started breaking bits and pieces off of it. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Durotan’s cell guard asked, brandishing his sword once more.  
“Would you put your sword away for once?” Khadgar asked, placing his hand on the guard’s sword and shoving it down away from Durotan. 

The orc was satisfied with the general shape of the rock that was about as big as his head, and then he started to mold the rock into smooth corners with his bare hands. Durotan grunted as he roughly worked with his gift. Of course, the humans looked visibly concerned when he thrust the now smooth, slightly polished with sweat rock at them. 

“Durotan? What is this?” Khadgar asked, concern on his face as he took the rock. His hands sagged under the weight of the rock, and the orc almost smiled at the weakness. 

“For Chieftain Wrynn,” he said, miming the action of giving something. “Gift.”

“Gift? Gift?” Khadgar asked, looking at the rock. “A gift for King Wrynn?” 

The guards put their swords away, still absolutely befuddled, and Durotan nodded his head. “It’s customary that chieftains give one another gifts as a sign of unity and hospitality,” he explained, rolling his shoulders. 

“We should get going,” Khadgar suggested to the other guards, and the one guard who they talked to escorted them to the war room.

\-----------------------------------

Arriving at the door to the barracks that served as a war room, Khadgar observed the other two men and Durotan. He looked at them both before gesturing to the door and saying, “I can’t barge in there. Will one of you at least tell King Wrynn the weight of the situation.” 

The guard to Durotan’s cell gathered his wits and opened the door, the heated conversation from the inside stopping immediately. “Your Highness,” he began, snapping to attention. “There are…. men outside who wish to speak to you.” 

“Tell them I’m busy, soldier,” King Wrynn dismissed swiftly. 

“Sir, it is the mage that you sent to Karazhan and one of the orcs we have captured. They have information on the growing orcish threat.” 

Wrynn seemed interested by this, and he straightened out to his full height. “If that’s the case, then let them in.”  
Khadgar approached first, holding the molded, slightly-smooth rock in both of his hands. He tilted his head a little and approached the King. “Your Highness, the captured orc, Durotan, has made this for you. It is a gift,” he explained, and held out the rock for the King; Khadgar still couldn’t believe the gift was a rock. 

King Wrynn then looked up to see the large orc sidle through the doorway, and his hand twitched for the pommel of his sword instinctively. He was large, even by an orc's standards, and Khadgar had no doubts King Wrynn was nervous. 

"Hello," Wrynn greeted awkwardly, feeling like the jailor to a prisoner. "What information do you have?"

Durotan held up a hand and then waved it back and forth. "Hello," he grumbled out in his thick, orcish accent, and Khadgar internally cringed. This was a mess. "Gul'Dan… information." 

King Wrynn nudged Khadgar lightly and asked, "you've taught him our language?" 

"Only pieces," Khadgar replied, eyes focused on the orc. "He learns very quickly. Gul'Dan is planning to open a portal to which he will bring the rest of the orcs."

"There are more orcs?" King Wrynn asked hurriedly, brows knitting in worry. "Orc? Is this true? Are there more orcs."

Durotan tried extremely hard to piece together words, but he was left with nothing more than random hand gestures that Khadgar got lost on. 

Looking at the map below, Khadgar gestured down to where figurines of legions and troops were placed. "Durotan… portal?" he asked, and then gestured to map. 

Durotan seemed to get it, much to the mage's glee, and he intently followed the orc's gaze as he scanned the map for the orc camp. While Garona wouldn't be back with more information on the true location of the encampment, they were lucky enough to have the chieftain at least. 

"Look, there!" Khadgar said, pointing out where Durotan had placed his finger down. 

"The orcs are holed up at the Blasted Lands? We must set up defenses then," King Wrynn said, starting to move little figurines of legions towards the Redridge Mountains. 

"Wait," Khadgar said. "There's more that you should know. Durotan explained to me that there are more orcs coming. All of them."

King Wrynn fixed Durotan with a gaze and then moved it towards Khadgar. "If this is true," he said, "then I will need you to leave."

"Wait, what? Why?" Khadgar asked, a guard coming to escort him. 

"As you so rudely interrupted my meeting before, this is a secretive process, Khadgar. I have things I must discuss with my men, not a spellchucker." 

Khadgar grumbled, and Durotan rose a brow as a guard tried to prod him with a heavy gauntlet. 

"Durotan… cell," Khadgar called out, and Durotan grumbled lowly, following him out. 

They were both escorted outside of the war room, and Durotan's cell guard took them back to the dungeon. 

"Guard, hold on," Khadgar asked as Durotan was about to climb back into his slightly cramped cell. 

"What?" he asked, crossing his arms and glaring at the mage. 

Khadgar huffed and then cleared his throat, doing his best to look casual as he asked, "I would like for Durotan to accompany me to my room so that I may garner some more information about the orc people and their behavior. This will give us an advantage."

"What?"


	3. Chapter 3

Garona quietly crawled through the overwhelming underbrush surrounding the orcish encampment, and she hesitated when she saw the massive portal being constructed. Her eyes followed the orc men as they precariously dangled on what looked like flimsy ropes. 

Hearing a snap from behind her, Garona quickly turned, brandishing her teeth and snarling. She closed her mouth with a snap when she realized it was Draka, Durotan's wife, and her son. 

"Ah, Draka!" Garona said, rising from her perch in the brush. "Durotan is okay, I can promise you that. The humans are reluctant to let him go because they're using him for information." 

Draka relaxed as well, dagger brandished. "Are they hurting him?" she asked, cool as ice.

Garona shook her hair, holding up a hand. "No, they're keeping him in a cell." 

"Thank you, Garona. I want you to know something," she said, moving closer to the half-orc. 

"What is it?" 

"I don't see Gul'Dan as our leader anymore, and I believe he must be stopped," Draka said, quietly. 

"The humans think so as well - is there a way we can negotiate with the Frostwolves? I also know their hatred for Gul'Dan," Garona explained, already formulating ideas in her head. 

"I… the Frostwolves are dead, Garona."

The sounds of the forestry around them filled the silence of a sudden realization. Garona nearly screamed at the absurdity of it. 

"Why?" she asked instead, searching the face of Draka for answers. 

"Gul'Dan is the only reason," she said. "Durotan's capture angered him beyond belief. Ogrim is alive, thankfully, but I fear for my life, and I fear for my son's life." 

"Draka, I don't know-."

"Go to Durotan, and go back to the humans and tell them that they must attack as soon as possible." 

Garona set her face and nodded, she placed a hand over her breast and backed up. 

Draka did the same, and as she turned, Garona noticed something on the orc's neck; it was a red mark. She squinted, and when she realized what it was, Garona swiftly made her way back to her mount. 

As she set off for Stormwind, her mind began racing with the thoughts of what could really be going on. 

\------------------------------------------

"What?" the guard asked again, seriously perturbed by the mage. "I took the beast out of his cage once today, spellchecker, I'm not letting it happen again!" 

"Soldier, I declare that you let this chieftain out of this grimy cell at once! He's hardly a prisoner!" Khadgar defended the orc with vigor. He turned to see the chieftain playing with the beads around his neck. 

"He's slaughtered our people, and you believe that he's fit to go dancing around Stormwind with only a frail mage to keep him from doing who knows what!" 

"Call me frail one more time, and I'll-" Khadgar began to retort, the mark on his wrist becoming hot, but was cut off by Durotan grumbling and then lying down on his bed of hay. Was the chieftain mocking him?

Now that he and the guard had stopped fighting, Khadgar heard the man talking to himself in a higher pitched voice. Heavens above, he was mocking them! 

Khadgar groaned. "Look, he deserves a room at the very least - he's a chieftain. It's respectful." 

The guard drew his sword and guarded the door. "No." 

That's when Durotan decided to get up, he crawled his way out of his cell and stood behind Khadgar. He looked at the comparatively tiny sword, then he looked at the guard. 

"Please?" he growled, smiling. Smiling. Khadgar was about to lose his head. 

"I'm uh… sorry, I really can't let you ou-" the guard shakily explained before being moved aside by a simple tap of Durotan's giant hand. The guard stumbled aside, and Durotan casually walked out of the dungeon. 

"Hey!" Khadgar and the guard shouted at the same time. They looked at one another before Khadgar made off for the chieftain. "Wait! Durotan!" 

The mage tried to catch up with the surprisingly fast orc. He had to run to keep up with the purposefully long strides, and when he did, Durotan fixed him with a gaze. 

"Room," Khadgar tried to explain. "Wait. Wait." He looked around for guards, and while he was stopped, Durotan's cell guard skidded to a stop beside the mage. 

"I don't get paid enough for this shit, spellchucker, can we please-" The guard was cut off again as Khadgar tugged on one of the orc's large arms and started leading him through the palace. 

"Just hush up for a moment," Khadgar ordered the guard, trying to keep a humongous wall of muscle and flesh from escaping. 

"I'm going to get fired for this," the guard said to no one in particular. "I'm going to be fired and then I'll have no way to pay for my family to eat. My wife, my kids, me… we'll all starve unless I become a sewer cleaner! Oh, heavens above, I'm so dead!"

Khadgar waved and bobbed his way through people in the castle, all of them skirting their way around the trio. The mage briefly wondered what was going through their minds when they saw a mage guiding an orc nearly twice his size and a guard rambling to himself.

He shouldered open the first door in the section of the castle that hosted rooms. It was occupied, and he muttered a quick apology as he went to the second room. 

This one was unoccupied, and Khadgar quickly shoved Durotan inside and the guard very much outside. When the door was shut, he sighed and rubbed his face, groaning. 

"Sorry about all that, I really couldn't just keep you in that cell. We humans are a misjudging and callous people." 

Durotan shuffled inside the way too small room. For a moment, they said nothing and looked away from each other. Khadgar realized how bad of an idea this was. 

"I'm going to go and uh, leave you to it then, I guess," Khadgar said, shuffling out of the room. "My room is three doors down and to the right." 

Durotan looked confused. 

"Dammit. Hold on." 

Khadgar looked around for a writing utensil and some paper, but he couldn't find anything. He skirted around and around, the massive orc following him with his gaze. 

"Uh, wait," the mage said holding up his hands. His eyes glowed a brilliant blue and his finger lit up. 

He drew two parallel lines in the air, and then he drew a little square. "Durotan," he said, pointing to that square. From there, he went across the 'hall' up two 'rooms' and drew his own square. "Khadgar." 

Durotan, after getting over the shock of the mage controlling magic, nodded. "Fel," he growled, gesturing to the room layout scrawled in the air. 

Khadgar frowned and shook his head. "Not Fel. Different," he said, trying to explain that the magic humans used and whatever the orcs used was different. "Mana. This is mana." He gestured to the blue.

Durotan nodded, saying, "no Fel. Ma…na. Mana." 

Khadgar chuckled a little bit. "Yes, that's right. Mana." 

Durotan's accent was thick and heady. It sounded like… Khadgar couldn't think of any comparisons at the moment. 

He pointed behind himself and said, "I'm going to leave, Durotan." Turning around he quickly added, "Anduin maybe see you." Khadgar made sure to make appropriate expressions and gestures until the orc understood. 

And with that, Khadgar left, shutting the door with a soft pull. He stayed at the door though, hand clenched over the doorknob with a fervor. 

Khadgar liked Durotan's accent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload, I've been doing other things!


	4. Chapter 4

Khadgar had been in his room the entire day, and he had even skipped breakfast in lieu for studying his tomes. There was a crucial point missing studies, however, something that might explain how to defeat the invading orcs much more swiftly. 

The mage stood up, and, carrying his tomes with him, made his way to the room of Durotan. He knocked politely on the door and waited, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

He realized he had nothing to say to the chieftain if he answered the door. As if luck gripped him coldly, the door swung open gently, and there stood Durotan. 

The rising sunlight from behind the orc was blocked by his immense figure, and even though he seemed more imposing this way, the chieftain still smiled. 

"Khadgar," he said, reaching out a hand and very lightly punching the mage. 

"Durotan," Khadgar greeted back, doing the same, but with much more force so that the chieftain could feel it. "I have questions for you."

The mage gestured inside the room and asked, "may I come in?" Luckily, the orc understood and stepped aside to let the human past. 

"It is fourteen days until our battle, and I'd like to know more about our foes," Khadgar said, then he simplified that. "Orc. Information." 

The chieftain looked at him with a cocked eyebrow before asking, "what information?" 

Khadgar blessed his foresight; he had given the orc a dictionary and had wished him the best of luck. He had heard from one of the guards that Durotan was talking to one of the patrol guards yesterday. 

"Information about…" Khadgar trailed off. It was rather embarrassing to say, but he did so much anyway. "Information. Orcs." 

"Orcs?" the orc asked. 

The mage gestured to his whole self and said, "orcs. All. Information." Khadgar felt like he was failing his explanation. "All."

Khadgar did have the insight to bring paper and ink this time, so he took a seat at the desk and began taking out things to draw. As soon as he had his pen, parchment, and ink ready, he began to draw.

First, he drew a poor sketch of a human man, and then he drew a human woman. He labeled the average height of each: five and a half feet, and five-and-three feet respectively. 

Then he drew how Stormwind's political system worked by drawing a triangle and dividing it into horizontal strips. He started at the top with King Wrynn, and then he wrote the names down of each of the societal 'castes'. 

He listed off the races in the world, their respective political and cultural leaders and then turned to Durotan. The drawing had taken about a quarter of an hour. 

"All," Khadgar said, gesturing to the two parchments. He handed the pen to Durotan and slid over a piece of parchment.

The chieftain gently took the pen in hand and dipped it in ink like Khadgar had done. He drew a line, but the ink was too thick and his hand was too heavy, so the pen ripped through the paper. He apologized in what Khadgar though to be orcish. 

Trying again, Durotan was able to draw well enough. Soon, there were two surprisingly lifelike figures of a male and female orc on the parchment. 

"You draw well," Khadgar muttered too quietly for Durotan to hear.  
.  
Next, Durotan drew the same kind of diagram that Khadgar had drawn, but he hadn't put names down. Instead, Durotan pointed to the top of the triangle and said, "Gul'Dan." 

Khadgar assumed that this Gul'Dan figure was the one leading the charge against the humans. 

Durotan pointed down next and said, "chieftain. Durotan." 

So on and so forth until the last triangle had what Khadgar assumed to be slaves if the orc chieftain's charades were anything to go by. 

"Thank you," Khadgar said, studying the well-drawn figures of the orcs. "You draw very well." 

"You're welcome," Durotan replied but was lost in the next words his mage companion had spoken. 

Khadgar stumbled a little bit and took the pen, drawing a line and saying, "draw. Draw." 

Durotan himself took the pen from Khadgar, repeated the motion and said, "draw." 

"Gul'Dan…" Khadgar began, then trailed off. "Gul'Dan like King?" he asked. 

"Gul'Dan… Wrynn?" 

"Yes, like uh… Gul'Dan and Wrynn equal?" Khadhar asked, trying to explain. Durotan's face was confused for a moment before Khadgar said, "Gul'Dan is king? Gul'Dan and Wrynn equal." 

The chieftain nodded his head and said, "yes."

Now Khadgar had understood. The orcs treated Gul'Dan as they treated their own King Wrynn. 

They lapsed into awkward silence as Khadgar studied the drawings they had made. Finding his wits amongst him, he suggested: "my parchment… would you like it?" 

Durotan gave him a look and asked with a furrowed brow, "what?"

Khadgar quickly got some new sheets of parchment and lay them out on the desk. He took the pen and placed it over the parchment. "Draw," he said, gesturing to the parchment and pen. 

Durotan hesitantly took a seat and gave the mage a look. He made a line by dipping the pen in the ink and drawing. Khadgar could sense an uncertainty in the orc. 

"Should I leave?" he asked, backing up towards the door. He suddenly stopped when Durotan stood up and pressed a hand to his burly chest, speaking in his own language. 

Khadgar tried to copy the utterance as best as he could muster, but his spittle got in the way. It caused him to sputter out the low growling noise in the phrase Durotan had said. "Sorry," he quickly apologized before saying the phrase again slowly. and placed a hand on his chest. 

"Before I forget," the mage intervened. "Gul'Dan. Fourteen day." Khadgar crossed over to the orc and made fourteen little lines and a sun. "Fourteen days." 

"I understand," Durotan said and sat back down. 

Khadgar gathered his things and head for the door, turning and placing his hand on his chest as he left. "Have a good day," he said, hoping the orc could at least understand the sentiment. 

Said orc stood as the door closed, his thoughts whirring before he realized he was still standing. He took his seat once more and thought for a moment about the conversation. 

Picking up the pen and finding a new sheet of parchment, the orc began to draw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this super long update, I will hopefully be back on a somewhat more frequent posting schedule.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving slowly and surely, guys!   
> Thank you so much for all the beautifully kind words that you folks have for me, it means a million and a half!

Chapter 5 

Durotan had been drawing when a knock sounded on his door. He placed the pen down against the ink and stood, moving to the door and opening it. Garona's face met him. 

"Garona," he said in surprise. She looked a little wild, a little broken, and a lot dismayed. "You seem unwell. What did you find at the Horde?" 

"Chiefta- Durotan," she broke off quickly entering his room and shutting the door. "I must speak with you."

"What is it?" he asked, suddenly worried. "Garona, what did you find?" 

"The Frostwolves are dead." 

The pen fell off the ink vial where it was balancing. Durotan merely stated at Garona, and his face twisted into a scowl. 

"Garona Halforcen, if this must be some joke, then heavens above-"

"They're dead, Durotan. Gul'Dan has kept your wife and Ogrim alive. They have no choice but to call Gul'Dan their chieftain." 

Durotan let out a curse and turned away, fists clenched tightly. His usual garb lay on the bed. It seemed to be calling to him, his bone crotch piece and necklaces so bright in the dreary atmosphere. He was angry, oh-so angry. 

"Thank you, Garona. I must ask you to leave me now." 

"I would, but there is more you should know," the half-orc said. It sent shivers down his spine knowing that there would be more bad news. 

"Continue," he declared, staring dutifully at the wall. 

"Draka has… I do not know how to say this. Know that your son is well and alive, but your wife…" 

Durotan suddenly turned and blurted, "Draka? Is she well? Is my wife alive?" 

"Draka is alive and as well as she can be." Garona turned away and muttered something. 

"Speak up," said he. 

"She has a love bite on her neck."

As before, the news shocked him still, but unlike the news that his entire clan had been drained away from Gul'Dan's disgusting magic, this news hardly affected him. 

"What?" he choked out in surprise, but suddenly was spurred on. "Are you sure it isn't just the scar on her neck? How fresh was it? Who was it from?" 

Garona rose her hands and looked down. "I don't know," she admitted. "It was on the back of her neck." 

He never took her from that position, never. He laid her on her back where he could see her face and he could look at her. The one time he needed to produce a child, just so he could see her face. 

Some male had ruined that. Some male had taken her from behind and well and truly fucked her. 

"Garona, I must tell you something," he said. He needed to tell somebody about this because he knew not speaking of his emotions lead to internal struggle. 

He sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. She did the same. Usually, there would be a fire between them or something to symbolize a peaceful talk. There was nothing but his bare feet and her boots. 

"Garona. Draka and I became married so that we could produce a child." 

"I understand this," she said. "I do not why you must speak to me about this." 

"That is the only reason Draka and I have married. We needed children in our clan. My love for Draka is not true. I do love her, yes, but she is a friend. We made a child together and we must raise it together. She is my mate in that we needed each other, and before that, we had hardly ever seen one another." 

Garona sat still and listened. "I do not understand, all couples are like this, Durotan." 

He suddenly stood up and continued, "if that is so, then why do I not feel remorse. My wife has willingly chosen another male over me. Why does that not anger me? I hardly feel sorrow!" He turned away from her. 

"It is as you said. You needed her for a child and nothing more. Do you love her?" 

"I would protect her with my life!" 

"Then you lo-" 

"I would protect Ogrim with my life. I would protect my clan with my life, and Khadgar, the small teeth, and you!" 

Garona sighed and stood. "Durotan, you need to rest and think upon this. Receiving news such as this is not what you need, and I am sorry, but only you could hear it." 

"Thank you, Garona." He turned and placed a hand on his chest. 

She did the same and quickly left the room as he gave a look at the fallen pen. He moved over and picked it back up, putting it in the inkwell, but in his frustration, he tipped it over the entire page he had been working on. He swore loudly and placed his face in his hands. 

Durotan moved to sit on the bed and, he ran his fingers through his greasy hair. He was dirty, and to check, he lifted an arm and smelled himself. Yes, very dirty. 

Another knock sounded at the door, and he had to hold himself back from snapping. The orc forced himself to stand slowly and to open the door gently. 

It was Khadgar. "Durotan," he greeted, reaching out and punching the orc in the chest. 

Durotan was delighted. If there was anyone able to lift his spirits then it would be Khadgar. "Khadgar," he said back, exercising caution as he gently pushed the mage in the chest. 

The human pushed his way into the room and immediately noticed the ink on the page. Khadgar crossed over to the desk and examined the ruined, ink-stained page. "I am sorry," he said to the orc. 

Durotan just shrugged his shoulders. "Khadgar," he began. The human had already turned on before he called for him. "I need to bathe." He made actions of bathing by pretending to scrub his hair, chest, and under his arms. 

"Oh, bathe!" Khadgar understood him almost instantly. "Knowing how you have been treated as of late, I will assume you cannot bathe here in the palace." 

Durotan shuffled back and forth, and he cringed when Khadgar sniffed. The mage seemed to be making a decision when he turned and made a small noise. 

"Follow me," the human declared, opening the door and gesturing for Durotan to move. 

They were on their way to wherever Khadgar had in mind. It seemed the mage had the entire palace on the back of his hand with how well he navigated its halls. He was being led to the bottom of the castle through a series of stairs when Durotan realized something: there were no guards here. 

Soon, a heat seemed to come from somewhere nearby, and they were both treated to the sight of one large pool of water. Steam rose from its surface languidly. 

"Hurry, we do not have time on our side," Khadgar warned, but Durotan was lost to what he said. The mage gestured wildly to the pool and sighed. 

"Bathe," he clarified. "Bathe." 

Durotan understood and then turned around, casually undoing the straps on his trunks. The mage had turned himself, looking into the hall they came from with vigilance. Durotan, however, was hesitating at the water's edge. He cautiously dipped a foot in and hissed at the feeling. 

Just then, voices were heard drifting throughout the halls. Khadgar quickly turned back to the orc to see him with a leg up and face in a frown. 

Khadgar threw his hands in the air and hissed, "what are you doing!" 

Durotan covered himself and shivered in the cold air, and he tried not to look at Khadgar's suddenly wide gaze. The mage pointed towards a decorative indentation in the wall and jerked his head. "Go!" 

The orc scrambled his way over to the indentation, and Durotan would have laughed at himself if he wasn't about to be caught naked with a mage. 

For a long moment, he only heard Khadgar whisper strange words to himself, then there was nothing. Two other voices drifted in, and they seemed to be bored from the tone of their voice. They left soon after, and just as Durotan was going to leave his own place, Khadgar suddenly appeared from thin air, breathing deeply. 

The mage cast him a look and explained, "mana."

Magic. Durotan was impressed by the human being able to become invisible, but then he realized that he was still naked. He covered himself to give Khadgar some decency, and he apologized. 

The human shrugged and then gestured to the pool. "Bathe," he said. The orc moved to the water at the human's request and slowly slid in, this time ignoring the heat until he was fully submerged. He let out a deep sigh of content. 

Durotan looked back at Khadgar, who was turned and looking and down the hall once again. He grunted and then called out, "Khadgar." 

The mage turned and came over to the orc to stand beside his recumbent form. "Durotan," he answered. 

"Bathe with me," the orc said, with a short little motion to the bench opposite of him. 

The human held up his hands and said something that Durotan did not understand. He shook his head. "Bathe," he said again. 

This time, Khadgar let out a sigh and started undressing, but he turned around to do so. The orc was confused by this, but he turned his head away to give the small-teeth his privacy. He waited until the human had joined him in the bath. After a moment or two, Durotan slipped down in the water until his back was resting against the smooth surface. A sigh escaped him. 

They stayed like that for a long time, Khadgar having his eyes closed and almost meditating, and Durotan resting recumbent along the water's edge. Just then, they heard footsteps echoing through the halls again, and before either of them could think of getting out, the face of Anduin appeared before them. 

Durotan sat up and looked away. Khadgar stuttered something. 

"What are two doing here?" the human asked the two bathers. 

Khadgar didn't move, but he managed to choke out something that Durotan didn't understand, and just as soon, the two were quickly exchanging words. He quietly sat and examined his thumbs and fingernails as the two discussed something in earnest. 

After a while, Anduin spared him a look of perhaps contempt, then he left the room with heavy footfalls. Khadgar sighed and sunk his shoulders into the heated water once more. Durotan rose a brow towards the man. 

Khadgar closed his eyes and took a deep breath before saying, "Gul'Dan."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Christmas special, but have a very merry Christmas regardless! Enjoy boys slowly falling in love instead, where habits just sort of form, you know? Then you're left wondering 'who am I without this person?' Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Also, the formatting got screwy? whatever

Durotan had never seen as many troops mobilized in a day. It was evening, and the orc chieftain had been watching from his window troops tromp through the streets of Stormwind. From his vantage, they looked like seas of human, and though he had interacted with the people for at least seven days now (he lost count), he still had a fear of the people he saw. 

 

The barracks had been filled around late afternoon, and now, when the sun was dipping below in the horizon, and the stone streets glowed a dull orange, Durotan found himself seeking the presence of Khadgar. Perhaps there was an uncertainty in the coming fight. He tried easing it by drawing, as Khadgar had called it, but he growled and destroyed sheet after sheet of parchment when he had tried. 

 

He felt good about this attempt though, and he cursed the knock that sounded at his door as soon as he made a single stroke with the pen. The chieftain stood up and forcefully opened the door, but his demeanor softened when he saw Khadgar, his arms full of books, parchments, and blankets. 

 

“Hello,” he greeted in the human’s tongue. He stalled from punching the mage’s chest. 

 

“Hello,” Khadgar said, struggling to keep all of his materials in his arms. He tried shifting the mass of things into a better position, but three books toppled out of the bundle. He swore and made to bend down, but Durotan had picked them up already and stepped inside so the human could deposit his things. 

 

“There are many soldiers in the city. They need more space, so people that have a private room are sharing,” Khadgar explained, but Durotan was lost. He made to pick up the dictionary when the human held up a hand from his bundle and slightly chuckled. He put his things on the floor and said, “wait.” He lit a candle in the room and sat at the desk. The mage beckoned for the orc to stand over him. 

 

Khadgar took up the pen and parchment and began drawing words Durotan had never seen before. Space, soldier, city, private, and share took up the page before him. 

 

“So, space is like a room,” Khadgar said. He stood up and pressed Durotan away a moment. “Space,” he said, gesturing to the area between the two and around himself. “Space.”

 

“Space,” Durotan repeated. He understood the concept. 

 

“Soldier.” Khadgar pointed to the invisible rooms through the door. “Guards and soldiers, they’re almost the same.” He held his fingers close together. “However, they have different meanings.” 

 

“Soldier?” Durotan asked as he imitated the posture of a Stormwind soldier, chest puffed out and head tilted up slightly. 

 

Khadgar laughed aloud. “Yes!”

 

By the time they got through the words, the sun had dipped below the horizon and left them in darkness. “We leave before morning light tomorrow,” Khadgar said, standing and constructing a bed of his blankets. 

 

Durotan grunted and stopped him. “I sleep…” He trailed off, looking for the word he didn’t know. He pointed at the floor instead. “I sleep. You sleep bed.” He pointed at the bed. 

 

“Floor,” Khadgar supplied before waving a hand. “That’s okay, really, there’s no need. I sleep on the floor all the time!” 

 

“No. Khadgar sleep bed,” the chieftain said in the same voice he used to address his once-alive clan. 

 

“Durotan, this is your room, your space. It would be rude-“ 

 

“Khadgar sleeps in the bed,” Durotan said calmly, and in perfect smallteeth language. He was slightly proud of himself. 

 

The human held up his hands and grumbled loudly. “Fine!” he conceded, gathering up his materials and putting them on the bed. He took a seat and crossed his arms. “Happy?” he asked, somewhat peeved. 

 

“Yes,” the chieftain said, immediately sitting down on the barren floor. 

 

They sat like that for a while until Khadgar started moving blankets and such around. He piled three on top of Duortan’s bed. 

 

“Khadgar hot?” Durotan suddenly asked, prompting the mage to shoot him a look and cry of indignity: “what?!” 

 

The orc’s brows shot up and he held up his hands. “Khadgar… hot?” he asked again, gesturing at the blankets. 

 

“Oh, heh, no,” the human replied, kicking off his boots and slipping under all the blankets. Khadgar had an extra, and he gave it to Durotan. “Take this,” he said. 

 

Durotan clumped it up and put it behind his head, resting his hands on his chest plainly. He stared at the ceiling, and Khadgar had turned on his side and was watching him. 

 

“Are you cold?” he asked the orc. 

 

“No,” Durotan replied simply after he took some time to decipher the words. “I am a Frostwolf.”

 

“What?” Khadgar squawked, not understanding the Orcish. 

 

“My people,” Durotan explained. “Frostwolf.”

 

Khadgar nodded his head a little bit, most likely putting the information somewhere in his expansive mind for later use. 

 

“Do you want to see something?” Khadgar asked after a few moments without noise. 

 

Durotan made a noise of confusion. “What?” he asked. 

 

“Show. I show you magic.” Khadgar dug out his hands form his blankets and focused enough to dimly light up the somewhat dark room with a shiny tendril of blue light. The mage twisted the form around, focusing on the shape of the things he had at his disposal. 

 

Durotan was observing the mage’s magic with awe. All of his life he was shown the power of the Fel. It’s disgusting, rotting source was even more so. This was different though. As an Orcish warrior, he never knew he would feel magic as some were able to. Here, close to a human mage of all things, he felt life and vivacity from the dim blue light glowing in the mage’s hands. 

 

Khadgar relaxed a moment, and he lost a little control of his magic so that his thoughts controlled the shape of the forms he created. They drifted into balls and rings, boxes and plates. Khadgar stopped focusing on his hands and started focusing on the expression on Durotan’s face. 

 

Perhaps it was the fact that tomorrow morning thousands of soldiers would march. Perhaps it was in the coming days where an incursion would occur. He watched Durotan’s face as it became an inscrutable expression. 

 

Khadgar looked at his hands to see that he had made a flower. He wasn’t even thinking about it, and a rose had popped up in his hands. He locked eyes with the orc and quickly crushed the creation in his hand. 

 

“Goodnight,” he said quickly, and turned over, hiding his flushing face from the orc. 

 

Durotan opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He laid back down on his impromptu cot and stared at ceiling again until sleep took him. Flowers were a very high sign of respect in his culture. It was courtship that drove a man to choose flowers, especially shamans. He found Khadgar’s flower to be rather handsome. 

 

 

They were both awaken at the same time with a loud calling from a horn. Khadgar was covered in sweat, and his eyes were wild. Durotan had sat up quickly, but calmly. They exchanged a look for a moment. 

 

“Bad… s… sl?” Durotan asked trying to imitate sleeping.

 

“Yes,” Khadgar merely said and threw the blankets off of him. He hurriedly began folding things and gathering them for a bag. A blanket, a waterspout, parchment, ink, and pens were among the things Durotan observed. 

 

The orc merely rolled up his cot and dressed himself in his usual garb. He shook his head full of loose hairs and then tied them back. He looked like a right and proper orc after he was dressed. 

 

Khadgar shouldered his expansive bag and sighed. He nodded his head and followed the multiple soldiers filing out of the palace. 

 

 

Durotan hated the horses that he was told to ride, so he decided to walk next to Khadgar anyway. He kept up with the mage on the horse pretty easily.

 

Silence and small chatter was the only thing that they allowed themselves. They were about to take on orcs of all people, possibly even the entire Horde. 

 

So the day went on exceptionally long, and it was exceptionally boring. Durotan didn’t allow himself to feel much mourning for his own ‘steed’, but now he missed his mount. He was so much faster than these ‘horses’. The canine could carry his bulk with ease. 

 

 

Durotan was taking his sweet time washing out his disgusting hair after dinner that evening, and Khadgar was hunched over a book, muttering words and phrases in hushed languages. They were interrupted by Lothar.

 

“Khadgar,” said the human. They both looked up. 

 

“Yes?” he asked, standing while keeping the tome open. 

 

"There’s a change of plans. You and Durotan need to go to Karazhan.” 

 

Khadgar snapped his tome shut. “What for? All it takes is a beck and call for the Guardian to show up.”

 

Lothar gave him a look. 

 

“Oh! That’s why you’re sending us.” 

 

Lothar nodded. He gave Durotan a small nod, and the orc did the same for Lothar. “How has he been doing, Khadgar?”

 

“Well, enough, I suppose. He draws.” Khadgar shrugged his shoulders. “We leave at first light for Karazhan?” 

 

The human nodded his head. “Yes, have a good evening.”

 

“Have a good evening, Lothar!” 

 

Durotan was too busy being careful with his hair to care about their conversation. Khadgar went back to reading his tome. He was looking at spells, as a mage should be doing. 

 

Khadgar mouthed the words to one and then brought over a rock next to him. He gestured to it and spoke the words from the tome in earnest. Roots and vines covered the rock in seconds, and a faint blue light glowed from within. 

 

The mage made a noise of content. 

 

Durotan noticed and got up out of the water of the creek. He was naked and took a seat next to the mage. Of course, Khadgar hadn’t noticed until he turned his head and saw… it. 

 

He backed up and turned his head. “Heavens above, Durotan, put on some clothes! Clothes!” 

 

The orc got up and put on his trunks with a huff. He shook his head. “Human culture,” he said with a tone of disbelief. 

 

Khadgar gave him a glare. “What? I do not want to see your… your… nevermind!” 

 

Durotan chuckled a little bit and lightly punched Khadgar’s arm. “What is this?” he asked. His deep voice reminded Khadgar of one of his mentors from the Kirin Tor briefly. He tended to make a mess out of things when he got too excited, and the mentor would always ask ‘what is this?’ 

 

“Spell. Armor,” Khadgar said as he motioned to his chest. “Armor.”

 

Durotan rapped his hand against the rock and made a noise. “Good. I need aormor,” the orc said, tripping on the word for armor. “Arrmor,” he pronounced again slowly and deliberately. 

 

“It’s a spell, and I can’t use it for a long time,” Khadgar explained, and just as he said that, he lost control over the armor on the rock. The roots and vines wilted and died. 

 

Durotan made a noise of discontent and threw the rock into the water, then flopped on his back. He was still dripping wet from the bath, and yet he didn’t shiver in the air. Khadgar figured he was plenty warm. 

 

The mage settled down next to the orc and fixed his gaze upon the sky, watching clouds float by. They stayed like that for a moment, watching clouds. 

 

An orc and a human laid together and cloud watched. For just a moment, they weren’t about to charge into battle.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually kinda like this chapter. Tell me what you guys think below!

“Durotan, are you nervous?” Khadgar suddenly asked as they moved around a fallen tree. 

“Nervous?” the orc in question asked. “What mean?” 

“Scared. Fearful. Anxious. Fear.”

The orc grunted quietly and then dug around in Khadgar’s bag for the dictionary he was looking for. He handed it to Khadgar and steered the horse while he was reading. 

“Here: fear,” the mage said as he leaned down and showed the chieftain the page. Now Durotan somewhat understood. 

“No. No fear,” Durotan said stoically and fixed his gaze up above to the clear, morning sky. 

Khadgar went silent and didn’t say anything again for a few moments. “I wish I had that. I have fear. Lots of it,” he said with a nervous chuckle. 

Durotan merely asked: “why?” 

Khadgar huffed and crossed his arms. He chewed on the inside of his lip. “Karazhan reminds me of the Kirin Tor.

The orc kicked a rock in his way and sent it flying towards the tree line. “Kirin Tor?” he pronounced somewhat correctly. 

“They are like… a school - a school for mages. They teach. They teach magic - mana.”

Durotan made a noise and nodded his head. “Good teach?” 

Khadgar pondered this for a moment, staring up at the branches above as they passed under them. Through an opening, he saw the tall spite of Karazhan reaching for the sky. “Yes and no. I ran. I was scared. Fear.” He shrugged his shoulders and picked up the pace. “We need to be faster.”

Durotan nodded and started hauling ass - to Khadgar at least. The orc was merely lightly jogging. 

The mage swore and then quickly guided the steed into a trot beside the Chieftain. 

 

Something felt off as soon as the mage opened the large doors into the library.

Utter breathtaking silence pervaded the air. 

“Durotan. Something is wrong,” Khadgar mentioned as he rolled out his arms. He held them in front of them and slowly crept forward. The mage was ready to use magic if necessary.

The orc grunted and pointed up the stairs. Khadgar nodded and they slowly made their way up each step, despite Khadgar’s awfully weak legs.

Suddenly, a booming roar of a voice filled the entire tower with sound. “Khadgar,” it merely said, but it sounded like a roar. 

Both of the men flinched, then turned to one another. They hurried up the stairs after a moment later. 

“You stole my book,” the voice said vehemently. The voice of the Guardian was talking to Khadgar. He guffawed and asked into the open air: “Guardian?” 

There was silence after that, and despite trying to hurry, Khadgar was tired. He huffed and then stopped. Durotan halted, turning around and then coming back down the stairs. 

The orc didn’t take a moment’s thought before he grabbed Khadgar’s tricep and crouched down to wrap his other arm around the mage’s leg. He pulled his elbows in and lifted, having slung the man over his broad shoulders.

Khadgar yelped but recognized the gesture for what it was. The position wasn’t uncomfortable by any means regardless, so he was content to keep his mouth shut and hold on so long as Durotan went up the stairs again. 

They arrived at the top of the tower not before long. A blue pool of pure mana lit up the circular room. It cast long shadows from the pillars supporting the balcony that ran along the room’s interior. The room drew the eye to the top, where the roof was shrouded in darkness. 

It seemed all too quiet. 

 

Durotan gently set Khadgar down and the mage held up a hand. He could feel… something in the air. 

The Guardian came out from behind a pillar, mouth moving in incantation. Khadgar took a step back. Something was wrong, and he and Durotan could feel it. 

Khadgar soared a glance at a frowning Durotan before asking: “Guardian?” 

Medivh gave the younger mage a little smile as he spoke incomprehensible words. The man moved down to the pool of mana and stepped in. 

Green bubbled around him as he incanted, each step spreading more of the disgusting, rotten magic that the duo recognized: Fel. 

“Medivh!” Khadgar called, realizing now what this was. The orcs had come through a portal. They were bringing more! Of course! it was a door! 

They couldn’t get through if someone - or something - opened it from the other side. 

Durotan was way ahead of Khadgar. He found a chair, took a mighty step, and grabbed it. With a lob that Khadgar was immediately in awe of, the chieftain threw the chair with almost perfect accuracy towards Medivh. 

The Guardian stopped and held up a hand as he incanted, stopping its flight mid-air. Khadgar took a step back and ground his teeth together. He stepped forward and held his hands against his chest, and with a roar of spellwork, cast balls of flame from himself and the world around him. 

Medivh used the chair to guard himself and then sent it flying towards Khadgar. The human gasped and froze up. Luckily, he had one of the most battle-sharpened orcs on this plane with him. Durotan grabbed Khadgar’s robe and pulled, casting him aside from danger. 

The orc snarled and looked for more weapons in the now-green ambiance of the room. He found a spare sword. It was rusting and far too tiny for his behemoth hands, but he would make it work. He grabbed for it and felt its weight. 

Khadgar put two and two together as he immediately began enchanting as fast as he could. He ducked a well-aimed green ball as he finished. “Durotan! Calm!” he shouted as vines suddenly erupted from the ground and began to cover the orc’s body. 

They wove around his calves and thighs, forming a thick armor against his legs, and then writhed against his torso. It was enough to make Medivh stop incanting to for only a moment to say in a deep, unearthly voice, “ah yes. That incantation will not last him long. You should never have left the Kirin Tor, boy, they would have taught you so much better!” 

Medivh swung his arm, and the Fel from the pool splashed out in a wave at Durotan’s torso. Khadgar grunted as he felt the concentration of the spell fading. Durotan was still trying to feel the ‘armor’ on his skin, and the vines themselves writhed against his arms and neck now. The orc ran behind a pillar and took cover from another splash, barely being hit. 

With Durotan hiding, Medivh turned to Khadgar and smiled wide. “Boy,” the thing addressed him. “You understand why I do this.”

“I understand nothing,” Khadgar said simply, and released a heavy sigh of relief when the spell-work completed. He didn’t know whether the armor would cover all of Durotan and suffocate him, or act as if a suit of armor against magic. “Why?” 

Medivh held out his arms, Fel gathering at his legs and surging upwards. “Power, my boy,” he said, eyes shining green and menacing. 

Khadgar swore and rolled to the side when a series of splashes nearly washed over him. He ran and jumped and then hid behind a pillar for a second to breathe. Fel was at his back, and he could feel it. He ran from the pillar just in time to see it be inundated with green magic, the stone crumbling away. The balcony above him buckled just a tad. 

Khadgar spared a glance up as he hid behind another pillar. The mage had an idea forming, and he began working with the incantation as he ran. He was always the fastest when it came to incantations at the Kirin Tor. He dodged another splash and moved towards another pillar. Khadgar ducked from a stone brick falling. 

He saw Durotan and gave him a glance. Khadgar made a series of motions as fast as he could and hoped to everything holy that Durotan could understand his interpretation of: “I-have-a-plan-move-when-I-tell-you-to.” 

Durotan nodded, eyes steely. Khadgar said the final words a little bit louder than intended against Medivh’s bitter monologue, feeling mana come from himself and the world around him to form a sort of ramp in the air above the damage balcony. 

“…and you are nothing!” Medivh was saying, and Khadgar interrupted with ‘now!’ just as the pillar gave away and he ran from the balcony. 

The stone slid from the balcony to fall into the pool with a splash of bigger proportions than intended. It was enough a distraction for Durotan, who had been silently biding his time behind a pillar, to run and leap into the air. Khadgar stared in hope. 

The orc chieftain sore through the air to land on Medivh’s back and shove the rusty sword through his back. The monster screamed in horror and pain, making Durotan hold on tighter to the human. Khadgar found the sight somewhat comical despite his rush. Of course, he knew the reason Medivh didn’t buckle under Durotan’s weight was that he was a monster. He quickly grew worried, however.

Durotan was flung off with a mighty roar, the orc flying and crashing into a pillar with his legs. He cried out in pain and immediately clutched at his foot. The sword was still shoved through Medivh’s back as the monster desperately tried to take it out. It was stuck, however, and Medivh could not reach that far. 

Khadgar took his chances and quickly summoned a spell to shoot a fireball at Medivh. As expected, his robes caught fire, and soon him. Durotan and Khadgar both huffed as the monster screamed, bubbling the Fel around him before falling to its knees and dying. 

The Fel around him faded into the void, where it rightfully belonged, leaving a still burning Medivh. 

Khadgar quickly said a spell to put it out, but the damage was done. Medivh was charred in some places, red in most, and practically indiscernible. 

Durotan and Khadgar looked at one another before Khadgar sat down and put his face in his hands. He took another look at Medivh, turned his face away and vomited violently. He retched and gagged over and over, feeling tears come to his eyes. He only realized he was actually crying when Durotan came over and held up a section of the mage’s robe to wipe his face with mouth with. 

“We go,” Durotan said in a quiet but proud voice. “You… not know.” He pointed towards Medivh. “Lok’Tar Ogar.”

Khadgar gave him a look before biting his lip gently and standing up with Durotan’s help. The adrenaline from casting so many spells had worn off, so Khadgar immediately stumbled and almost fell again, but like before, Durotan was there to assist. 

They made their way down the stairs haltingly and with frequent stops for Khadgar to retch or breathe, and for Durotan to rest his injured foot. They made it outside to where they left most of their supplies against an alcove in the stonework. There, Khadgar and Durotan collapsed and leaned against the wall. 

“I killed Medivh,” Khadgar muttered, an empty look in his eyes. 

Durotan grunted before not-so-gently poking Khadgar in the chest. “I kill Medivh, no you.” 

Khadgar grabbed his canteen and swished his mouth with water before drinking the rest and tossing it to the side. He was crying again.

Durotan gave him a pitiful look before wrapping a thick arm around the human’s shoulders and lightly pulling him into his side. “Sleep,” he simply said. 

And like that, Khadgar was asleep against Durotan, the best companion he’s ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R.I.P my portrayal of Medivh. We can get on with the second act after this chapter, which includes, but is not limited to: fluff, angst, actually talking about your feelings, the entirety of Stormwind wondering why Durotan and Khadgar spend so much time together.


	8. Chapter 8

Durotan woke to the sound of screeching. It was dark, so he wasn’t able to see. He sat up and rubbed at his tired eyes. 

Another screech sounded from the night, and a giant bird landed in front of him. He turned to Khadgar to see that he was also awake. Durotan scrambled to his feet and looked for a weapon, and found none. He sighed when he realized he had left the rusty sword inside. 

“Khadgar,” he hissed, then gestured towards the bird. Khadgar stood and held out a hand. 

“No, no,” he said to Durotan. “Lothar’s.” As he pointed out who the bird belonged to, Khadgar had stood and was rubbing his hand along the bird’s feathers. 

Durotan watched as realization dawned on Khadgar’s face. The mage gasped and got their supplies from where he hid them. “Lothar! He could be hurt, we need to go now!” 

Khadgar stopped and swore loudly. “Okay okay, uh…” He pointed to Durotan and then to himself. “You - bird. Me - horse.” 

Durotan bit his lip and thought for a moment. The steed wouldn’t be able to hold his weight and be fast; the beast of a bird would. The orc nodded and carefully climbed onto the bird. He grasped the saddle that was just a bit too small for him and nodded to Khadgar. 

The orc pointed in a direction. “Bird… ah…” He struggled with the phrasing, but then switched to charades. Durotan pointed to himself and then made a brilliant display of him flying with one hand while the other depicted Khadgar riding behind him. 

The mage understood and nodded. He got the horse in motion with a yelp, and they sped off the same trail they had come from. Durotan pat the beast’s neck and it took off.

The orc settled into the saddle as the giant bird took a running start and flapped its enormous wings. They climbed steadily, but the beast was a little unused to the orc’s weight. Regardless, the powerful thing found a draft and used it to propel them to the sky. 

Durotan pointed out Khadgar occasionally appearing through the trees. Like his old mount, the bird seemed to understand him intuitively, and they were soon following Khadgar at the same pace.

The long ride gave Durotan time to think. His thoughts were mostly drawn to Draka and the discovery that she had a love bite on her neck. Perhaps it wasn’t from mating. 

He pushed the thought aside; of course, it would have been from mating. That arose the question as to what would become of his son. Was his son even alive?

Durotan grunted and shut his eyes. He forced himself to not think about that. His fears would be quelled soon enough. His rough fingers stroked the giant’s bird muscular neck out of worry; try as he might, he could not stop thinking. 

He was so close to discovering and the anxiety of it all was bearing down on him. Durotan already missed the blissful ignorance of not knowing. The sun was setting, and he would soon find out. These surrounding woods looked familiar, and he drove the beast down closer to the ground. 

“Khadgar!” he shouted hoarsely from above the canopy. The mage stopped and looked up at him. Lothar’s bird glided down to the ground, and he hopped off. He shook his legs to get the feeling back into them. 

“Uh… uh… o-orc,” the chieftain said. He pointed south through the treeline. Khadgar quickly picked up his meaning. 

“The camp is ahead?” he asked, and Durotan nodded confirmation. “Walk, no… thing.” He gestured to Lothar’s bird. “No horse.” He gestured to the stallion.

Khadgar nodded and tied the horse to a low hanging branch that looked sturdy enough. He gently stroked the steed’s neck. 

“Are you ready?” he asked Durotan. The orc nodded and trudged on ahead, Khadgar following him cautiously, blue tomes appearing on his hands as he gazed through the treeline. 

Durotan himself picked up a huge rock and cradled it in his hand. He stopped after a moment to give a fallen branch a nudge with his foot. 

“Wait,” he muttered and picked up the huge (to Khadgar) stick and bluntly smacked it against a tree. It didn’t break, so he tried again, and was delighted to see that it held. 

“Sword!” he teased, and out came a rumble that was similar to a chuckle. Khadgar nervously chuckled himself, shying away from the Chieftain with a weapon.

They continued walking, but suddenly Durotan stopped. He held up the hand with the smooth rock in it, causing Khadgar to stop. 

He saw the giant orc’s ears twitch ever so slightly, and the chieftain rose. He pointed into the trees further and gnashed his fists together. Khadgar got the message - there was fighting ahead.

The little mage strode forward, a rush of adrenaline filling him from head to toe, but he was suddenly stopped by a hand clasping onto his shoulder. Khadgar winced and looked at Durotan, who gave him a disapproving glance. With a gentle tug, Khadgar was pushed behind Durotan, and now the chieftain was taking the lead. 

Khadgar huffed but quietly moved with the large orc, and soon, they were at the edge of the treeline. Durotan pointed out the battle before them. 

Khadgar had never seen a battle before, but it was terrifying and exciting all at once. The tents that he had guessed belonged to the orcs rose above the shapes of orcs and humans in shining armor exchanging blows. Suddenly, something occurred to him: the humans were being decimated. 

“Khadgar,” Durotan grunted, snapping him out of his trance. On the cliff overlooking the encampment, a single figure stood above the rest. Gul’Dan. Somehow, he looked exactly as Khadgar pictured him: old, wearing a robe, and with the gloom of evil about him. 

“Gul’Dan,” Khadgar said back. “The humans,” he began but quieted down when he saw Durotan’s gaze. It seemed nowhere and everywhere until all at once, his reverie was broke and he stood. 

“Kill Gul’Dan,” he decided in a gruff commanding tone. Khadgar looked as the shadows of the leaves danced on the orc’s broad frame. 

Khadgar stood and joined the orc. “Yes,” he merely said. “How though?”

Durotan gave him a grin. Khadgar gulped.

 

Durotan’s idea included the use of the horse and Lothar’s bird. He had drawn a little map of the fighting in the soft ground with a small stick. First, Durotan would fly above the fighting, distracting the orcs, humans, and most importantly, Gul’Dan. While this happened, Khadgar would skirt around the edge of the fighting and then head up the cliff face. Thirdly, when orcs realized that Durotan was not dead, then some may turn to the human’s side. Khadgar had asked about that third point, expressing his doubts. The orc gave him a small smile in return.

“Gul’Dan need kill,” Durotan had said. “Orc and human,” he had said, putting his fists together. “Gul’Dan need kill.”

Now Khadgar was urging his steed to run as fast as he could while he saw the gazes of men and orc alike as they saw Durotan parading around in the sky. The stallion climbed the cliff with deft hooves, and the mage was only grateful for the stallion beneath him. Khadgar could see Gul’Dan, and his stomach seemed to sink in fear. The orc was raising a hand to Durotan, green magic pulsing at his eyes, and the mage surged off the stallion and began running as fast as he could.

The mage shouted a spell, fire blooming from his hand and smacking the orc in the arm, chest, and face, leaving his green skin scorched and blackened. The mage’s arms became blue with runes, an anger seeping into him that he didn’t know he had; Gul’Dan had tried to kill Durotan, and that made his death all the more reasonable.

Without even letting the orc recover, Khadgar shouted a lengthy spell, sending tendrils of magic out to collide against the ground around the orc. At the top of the cliff face, their ‘arena’ was small and unstable. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Durotan swooping to the cliff.

Gul’Dan had recovered, his face furious and brooding. He tried to raise his arm, but he winced at the intense burn. “Human!” he snarled, causing Khadgar to take a stance. 

He rushed the small mage, and Khadgar was unnerved. Taking a step back, the human felt his confidence waver, but the sight of the quickly-approaching Durotan made him shout in primal glory. He charged against the larger orc with fury. 

Khadgar had never fought anyone before, but in the midst of primal nature, he was at least smarter. The mage used the spell that was forbidden to him by the Kirin Tor: dispel magic. He and Gul’Dan’s magic sputtered out and died, and the orc stopped for a moment as he suddenly grew weary. Khadgar used this to his advantage. He rushed the large orc and grasped onto his waist, tackling him to the ground, and right on time. 

Lothar’s bird landed, and Durotan jumped off, grabbing Gul’Dan and throwing him away from the mage. He gave Khadgar a smile before advancing slowly.

 

“You will never win, Durotan!” Gul’Dan cried in outrage on the ground. “These orcs will always thirst for human blood!”

“Then they may thirst in their graves!” Durotan said back, his voice much heartier and resounding than the old orc’s weak voice. He grabbed Gul’Dan by his neck and lifted him in the air, carrying him to the cliff face. 

Gul’Dan scrabbled at his strong arm, but Durotan, ever the chieftain, only squeezed harder and bore the pain. Durotan gave Khadgar a look and then gazed upon the crowd of adrenaline-filled and mystified orcs and men. 

“Gul’Dan has controlled you for too long!” he shouted in orcish, his resounding voice rolling over the battlefield. “Today, the peace our ancestors knew will be ours!” 

Durotan closed his eyes and held up Gul’Dan more. “LOK’TAR OGAR!” he shouted.

“LOK’TAR OGAR!” screamed the orcs in return, banging their weapons against shields, pounding their fists against their bodies, and stamping their feet upon the ground. 

Gul’Dan gave Durotan a glare once more, his eyes turning green, fist raised, filled with Fel magic. Suddenly, it was gone, and Durotan’s gaze flicked to Khadgar’s once. 

With a bellow that was better suited on a great beast, Durotan held up Gul’Dan and snapped his neck with a vicious squeeze, then he threw the body off the cliff to the mass below. Orcs and humans alike parted for the body to fall to the ground. 

There was a moment of silence from both sides of the battle, but the humans and orcs cheered in jubilant praise at the orc above them. Khadgar sighed in relief, looking at Durotan with a hopeful gaze. A ray of evening sunshine burst through the clouds and shined upon Durotan’s tough skin, and both he and Khadgar looked at one another. 

He sat down next to Khadgar and flopped onto his back. 

Khadgar smiled gently, then repeated the motion, covering his eyes with an arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't in the mood to write, but I've been reading Madeline Miller's 'Song of Achilles'. A certain scene really sparked this kind of dynamic between Khadgar and Durotan that I hadn't known was there. I sometimes keep forgetting that Durotan is a chieftain and that his title holds weight, and that Khadgar is a kind of knockoff mage who escaped from the Kirin Tor. It almost reminds me of Achilles and Patroclus! Anyway, sorry for the wait!
> 
> Edit: I thought there was a typo but there actually wasn’t a typo. We’ve all been there


	9. Chapter 9

Hi everyone! I know it’s been a very long time since I’ve posted, but I’ve been very busy and stressed with my senior year of high school. I don’t know how to approach this fic anymore, and I have a lot of ideas for it, but I don’t know if I can continue as of now. I’m in the mood to write, just not this pairing! Expect drabbles and some flash fiction in coming times. 

Apologies to those who love this pairing!!


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